Dark Heart of Magic (23 page)

And there was something else about Katia that was bothering me—some small, nagging detail that I couldn't quite put my finger on. But the more I tried to figure it out, the deeper it sank into my brain.

After a couple of minutes, I gave up and moved on to the next thing—the final round of the Tournament of Blades. I wondered who would win, Deah or me. I looked down at the star carved into the center of my black blade and my star-shaped, sapphire ring.

I thought of my mom then, and I was determined that it was going to be me.

I
headed back over to the fence to hang out with Devon, Felix, Poppy, and Oscar before the final match. It took me much longer than it should have, since people stopped me every few feet to congratulate me and wish me luck in the final round. One tourist rube with a camera even asked if I would let her take my photo. I didn't really want to, but I decided to be nice and pose for a picture, even though my smile was more of a snarl.

I had just moved away from the tourist and was blinking away the blinding camera flash when a hand settled on my shoulder.

I spun around to find Seleste Draconi staring at me with her bright, intense eyes—eyes that seemed to look right through me.

“You can't win today, Serena,” she said in a dreamy voice. “You're my sister, but you can't win today.”

I couldn't have been more shocked than if she'd zapped me with a bolt of lightning.

Sister?
Seleste and my mom were
sisters
?

“You need to let the girls win,” Seleste continued. “It's the only way they're ever going to find each other. They're blood, and blood should stick together.”

I shook off my shock. Seleste was just spouting nonsense again or somehow saying that she and my mom had been as close as sisters. Mom had never mentioned having an
actual
sister. Not even once. Surely, Mom would have told me that I had an aunt—

My stomach dropped. Or maybe not, since that aunt was married to Victor Draconi.

“I think you're confused.” I didn't want to hurt Seleste, but my voice came out sharper than I intended. “I'm not Serena Sterling. I'm her daughter, Lila. Remember? We met the other night at the cemetery.”

For a moment, Seleste's face cleared, but then her eyes clouded over again, burning even brighter than before. “Lila . . . she finally came to her father's grave, just the way I saw she would. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she seemed lost in her own thoughts.

This conversation was going around and around in circles, and I didn't need Seleste and her visions messing with my head. Not before the final match. I turned to head back to my friends, but Seleste latched out and grabbed hold of my arm.

She looked at me again, this time actually seeming to see
me
, and not my mom or some ghost or misty vision of the future. “You have to let Deah win,” she hissed. “Whatever you want, I'll pay it and more. Just let her win the tournament. You're the only one who can beat her. And you're the only one who can beat
him
.”

I shook my head. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

She tightened her grip on my arm, still staring at me. “Victor will punish Deah if she doesn't win. You know he will. The same way he punishes me when one of my visions turns out to be wrong or not what he expected. But he doesn't realize that I'm telling him the wrong things. Never the right things. Never the important things. He slaps me and locks me away with no food, but I don't care. Not anymore.”

Seleste cackled, as if she was happy she was lying to Victor despite all the pain and misery it brought down on her.

“I'm going to do my best in the tournament,” I said, trying to bring her back to the here and now. “Maybe Deah will beat me, and maybe she won't. But I'm not going to just
let
her win.”

Seleste tightened her grip, her fingers painful and bruising on my upper arm. “But you
have
to. It's the only way Victor will ever be defeated—if you and Deah work together.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. Deah loved her father and desperately wanted his approval. Even if she knew what a monster Victor was, there was no way she would ever turn against him. Especially not to help
me
. Deah hated me because I knew about her and Felix. Because I kept pointing out how stupid it was for the two of them to keep sneaking around when so many people could get hurt as a result.

“I'm sorry,” I repeated in a firmer voice. “But I can't help you.”

Seleste's face took on a sly, cunning look. “Not even to get your revenge on Victor for murdering Serena?”

Her words were like a slap across the face. “How do you know about that?”

No one knew about that, except for Mo, Devon, Claudia, and a few other people. It wasn't like Victor had announced he'd murdered my mom to all the other Families. I doubted he'd given the horrible things he'd done to her more than a passing thought over the years.

Seleste gave me a pitying look. “I saw it, of course.” She sighed. “I see everything.”

Anger roared through me. “Well, if you saw it, then why didn't you
stop
it? Huh? Especially since you were her friend. At least, that's what Mo said.”

“Not just her friend—her
sister
,” Seleste snapped back. “She was my sister, and I still couldn't save her.”

More questions crowded into my mind, including why she kept insisting they were sisters. Seleste didn't look anything like my mom, with her blond hair and dark blue eyes, and she didn't even have the same kind of magic—

Wait a second. Blue eyes. Mom had had dark blue eyes. So did I. And so did Deah.

My mom had had sight magic. Seleste could see the future. I could see into people with my soulsight, and it seemed as if Deah could do something similar with her mimic magic.

Jolt after jolt, shock after shock, zinged through me. Could . . . could Seleste be telling the truth? Could she and my mom really have been sisters? That would mean . . . that would make Deah my cousin. We would be related. Family.

“You have to believe me,” Seleste said, pleading with me. “I tried to save Serena. I try to save everyone, but it doesn't always work.”

Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper, and her entire body trembled. I looked—
really
looked at her—peering past the glaze of magic that coated her eyes.

Her aching regret slammed into me, making my heart hurt, my stomach twist, and knives slice through every single part of my body. The emotion was so strong that I staggered back, clutched my chest, and gasped for air, trying to get away from it for just one second. But Seleste . . . she couldn't get away from it. She felt this all day, every day. How did she live with it?

Seleste dropped her gaze from mine. “I really did try to save Serena.”

“I . . . I believe you,” I croaked out, the awful emotions vanishing and my breathing slowly returning to normal.

“And you have to believe me about this too. You have to let Deah win the tournament. It's the only way to save you both . . .
bones and blades . . . bones and blades . . . bones and blades. . . .
”

She grabbed my hands and stared into my eyes, but her gaze was foggy and distant, and I could tell that she wasn't really seeing me. Instead, she kept mumbling those same words over and over again. I wondered what sort of prophecy or vision of the future it was. Whatever it was, she thought it was going to kill either Deah or me or both of us.

And I was starting to believe her.

People were beginning to stare at us and whisper, so I pried my hands out of Seleste's and took a step back. She reached for me again, still mumbling about
bones and blades
, but I took another step back, staying out of her reach, and kept my gaze averted from hers. I didn't want to know what she was feeling. Not right now.

Finally, she seemed to snap back to her senses, and she gave me another sorrowful look.

“I hope you believe me,” Seleste whispered. “I hope you do the right thing—for all our sakes. Or Victor has already won.”

Then she turned and walked away without another word.

 

I slipped into a pool of shadows next to the Sinclair tent and drew in deep breaths, trying to push all the questions and worries out of my mind and compose myself. Easier said than done.

When I felt calm enough, I went back over to the fence where my friends were still standing. Felix, Poppy, and Oscar all wished me good luck, then turned to talk to some other folks who had come up to them, but Devon stayed with me. He touched my shoulder and steered me a few feet away from the others.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I ran into Seleste in the fairgounds. She said some . . . strange things.”

“Like what?”

I told him everything she'd said, except for Seleste claiming to be my aunt and wanting me to throw the tournament so Victor wouldn't punish Deah for losing.

The longer I talked, the more Devon's frown deepened. “Bones and blades—that's the same warning she gave you at the Draconi cemetery. What do you think it means?”

“I have no idea. And really, I don't think I want to know. I need to focus on the match. Not get distracted by Seleste and her prophecies.”

Devon touched my shoulder again. “Then don't—don't think about it at all. For the next five minutes or ten minutes or however long the match lasts, just think about how you can win. I would wish you luck, but you don't need it. And no matter what happens out there, I want you to know how glad I am that you're a member of the Sinclair Family. That you are a part of my life.”

My mouth dropped open in surprise. Devon smiled, but he took care to not look at me, as if he didn't want me to be distracted by his feelings. Yeah. Fat chance of that happening. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Felix asked him a question, and Devon turned away from me to answer him.

My fingers curled around the hilt of my mom's sword, and I drew it out of its scabbard and held it up before me, staring at the stars carved into the hilt and streaming down the blade. I wondered what my mom had thought at this moment, the minutes before she would either win or lose the tournament. What she'd been feeling. And what it had felt like when she had finally won. When she'd finally proven herself to be the best fighter around.

So I twirled my mom's sword around and around the way I had so many times before, and the way she had so many times before me. I moved the weapon from one hand to the other and back again, clearing my mind for the fight to come.

And when I was ready, I dropped my mom's sword to my side and let out a breath, finally ready to fight for everything that I wanted.

T
he officials announced that it was time for the final match, and I drew in a breath and stepped out into the stadium. Directly across from me, Deah entered on the opposite side. The crowd yelled and cheered, although I could hear a few, loud
boo-boo-boos
mixed in as well, from Blake and his crew.

I kept my pace slow and steady and concentrated on the feel of my mom's sword in my hand, more determined to win than ever before. As Devon had said, this was my chance to take something from the Draconis for a change, especially from Victor, and I wasn't about to screw it up by not paying attention to what mattered most right now.

My opponent.

Deah reached the stone ring before I did, her sword down and out by her side, just like mine was. Sunlight glinted off her weapon, and I finally got a good look at the symbols carved into the sword.

Stars covered the black blade.

I blinked, wondering if I was imagining things, but I wasn't. Five-pointed stars covered the blade of her sword, clustered together in tight groups, just the way they were on mine, almost as if her weapon was a twin to my own.

Or a sword that a mother had passed down to her daughter.

Shock zipped through me. My heart clenched tight, and in that instant, I knew that everything Seleste said was true. She was my aunt, which made Deah my cousin, and Deah had a Sterling Family sword to prove it.

More and more questions crowded into my mind. Mo . . . he had to know about this. So did Claudia. After all, they'd been friends with my mom and Seleste. So why hadn't they ever told me about Seleste and Deah?

But I pushed all the questions and revelations aside. Just because we shared the same DNA didn't make us
family
. Not really. It didn't matter if I was related to Seleste and Deah. It didn't have any bearing on the tournament at all. Because Deah was my opponent, the person standing between me and what I wanted, and I wasn't about to go easy on her just because some secret had been dragged out into the light.

So I stepped forward and listened to the official go through the rules a final time, even though everyone had already heard them before. Deah looked up at the Draconi box, and so did I. Seleste was sitting there, front and center, and she gave a big, cheery wave to her daughter before her gaze moved to me. She hesitated, then waved at me as well, although not as enthusiastically.

Victor was also in the box, sitting and talking to Blake, the two of them totally ignoring Deah, even though this was her big moment. Or maybe they were so sure she was going to win that they didn't even have to watch the match.

I looked into Deah's eyes, feeling all of her tight, pinching hurt. She desperately wanted her father's love and approval, and she never felt she had it, no matter what she did or how much she accomplished. Not even now, when she was in the spotlight, poised to bring such glory to the Draconis and win the Tournament of Blades for the third straight year.

It made me feel sad for her.

My mom might be dead, but she'd never ignored me the way Victor and Blake were ignoring Deah. She might still have both her parents, but in her own way, she was as alone as I was. Katia had been wrong. Deah Draconi didn't win at everything, and she certainly didn't have everything.

She didn't have very much at all.

Seleste noticed that Victor and Blake were ignoring Deah, so she waved to her daughter again, a big, happy smile on her face. I sensed that some of the hurt eased in Deah's heart, and she waved back to her mom. Then she dropped her gaze from the box and focused on her sword, swinging it around and around in her hand, gearing up for the fight.

I stared up at Seleste, and she looked at me again. Our gazes locked, letting me feel her aching desperation for me to throw the match and let Deah win. I wondered why it was so important and why she thought it was the only way that Deah and I could save each other. Even if I did throw the match, it wasn't like Deah and I would automatically become besties. It wasn't like we would ever be friends. Not when she was a Draconi and I was a Sinclair.

Not when her father had murdered my mother.

So I turned away from Seleste and looked over at the Sinclair box. Devon, Felix, Claudia, Angelo, Reginald, and Mo were all up there, with Oscar
zip-zip-zipping
around faster than ever before. All of them were looking at me, grinning, clapping, and flashing me thumbs-ups, but I focused on Devon. Our gazes locked, and his warm pride filled me from head to toe. Win or lose, friends or something more, he'd always be there to support me.

That knowledge shattered the last part of the shell around my heart, letting all the feelings I had for Devon pour in. I just stood there, with all these emotions flooding my body. Warm happiness. Rock-hard certainty. And a hot, dizzying rush that made my heart soar. But for once, they weren't someone else's emotions—they were
mine
.

Once again, Devon had stormed past all of my defenses without even trying, just by being the good guy that he truly was. Word by word, smile by smile, thoughtful thing by thoughtful thing, Devon had chipped away at the cold, brittle shell that coated my heart, the one that had encased it ever since my mom had died. I wanted to tell him that—and so much more.

But now wasn't the time for Devon and me, so I dropped my gaze from his and focused on Deah again.

“Good luck,” she said in a soft voice. “May the best fighter win.”

“Yeah,” I said, tightening my grip on my sword. “You too.”

The official lifted his hand, then dropped it.

Deah and I both raised our weapons and charged at each other.

 

My sword met Deah's, the resulting
clang
so loud that you could hear it throughout the stadium. This wasn't just about two people fighting each other to win a contest; it was representative of our two Families fighting as well, and the epic clash that had been going on between the Sinclairs and Draconis for years.

Deah and I stood in the middle of the stone ring, our swords locked together, each one of us trying to throw the other off, neither one of us having any success. Neither of us had speed or strength Talents, so we were evenly matched. I'd have to fight her with my wits and skills, like I had Devon.

I didn't have a problem with that.

Finally, we both backed off, untangling our swords and circling around and around each other. Then we both charged at each other again, whipping our swords back and forth, and back and forth, and falling into the steps we'd both danced to a thousand times before.

All the while, the crowd was going crazy, cheering, yelling, clapping, and screaming with every move Deah and I made, with every
clang
of our swords and every smash of our feet in the trampled grass. This was the last match of the tournament, and they wanted it to be a good one. Well, I planned to give them their money's worth—before I beat Deah.

But the longer we fought, the brighter Deah's blue eyes glowed, and the more her movements became exactly like . . .
mine
. The way she held her sword, the way she moved, even the snarl of her lips—it was all like a mirror image of myself—and I realized that she was using her mimic power.

The cold chill of her magic radiated off her body, and my own transference power stirred weakly in response. But unless she actually used her power on me in some tangible way—hit me, tripped me, whatever—then I couldn't absorb her magic and use it against her. I couldn't use her magic to make myself stronger. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, but I found it more frustrating than ever before because if I was just a little bit stronger, I could overpower her and win the match.

So the fight dragged on . . . and on . . . and
on
....

Since I was more or less fighting myself at this point, I couldn't win, but neither could Deah. One minute passed, then two, then three, and we fought on, both of us starting to suck wind. With every blow we landed, the crowd gasped, thinking that this was going to be the moment when one of us cut the other and drew first blood. But I blocked her blows, and she thwarted mine, and the fight raged on.

But the longer we fought, the more I realized I had one small advantage over Deah. She might be able to use her Talent to mimic my every move, but she didn't actually have
my
magic. She didn't have my transference power, and she especially didn't have my soulsight. However her magic worked, she could see the moves I was making, how I held my sword, how my feet shifted around and around, and she could copy all of that right down to the squint of my eyes and the tilt of my head.

But she couldn't
see
into
me
the way that I could into her.

She couldn't feel my emotions, and most important, she couldn't anticipate what I was going to do next. Not exactly, not precisely, not for sure every single time the way I could with her.

And I finally knew how I could win.

Deah had been staring at me the whole time, looking into my eyes the same way I was staring into hers. I wondered if that's how her magic worked, if her mimic Talent was a form of sight. Did she have to see a person in order to copy their fighting style and everything else about them? It made sense, especially since it seemed that all the other women in our family had some sort of sight Talent. If that was how her power worked, then all I had to do was not look at her, not let her peer into my eyes.

So that's what I did.

I dropped my gaze from Deah's, instead focusing on her sword and the way the sun glinted on the metal, the warm rays highlighting all the stars carved into the hilt of her black blade—her Sterling Family sword.

For a moment, guilt surged through me, but I shook it off and went on the attack, whipping my sword back and forth and pressing forward with renewed energy.

And slowly, I began to take control of the fight.

At first, it was small things: Deah not putting her foot down exactly how I did mine, holding her sword a fraction of an inch lower than mine, gripping the hilt just a little too high. But slowly, all those little things started to add up. Deah was still a great fighter—one of the best I'd ever seen—but I was just a smidge better, someone she couldn't overcome without her mimic magic.

And she knew it too.

Her blows became quicker and more desperate and reckless. I couldn't see the future like Seleste could, but I knew with crystal clarity how the rest of the fight would play out. Five more moves and she would overreach, and then I could slice my sword across her arm and win the Tournament of Blades, just as my mom had before me. The thought made me so happy that I smiled and stared directly into Deah's eyes.

Her hot, sweaty desperation slammed into my gut so hard that I blinked and stumbled back from the force of it. I stared into her eyes again, and I realized desperation wasn't all she was feeling.

Deah was afraid.

Fear churned and churned like acid in her stomach. She knew that I was the better fighter and that she was seconds away from losing the match and the tournament. And she was afraid of what her father would do to her and Seleste when she lost.

It was weird, but in that moment, I almost felt I could see into Deah. That was nothing new, but I wasn't just feeling her emotions—I was actually
seeing
all the memories she had of growing up. Training so hard all the time so she could be the best fighter possible. Running after Seleste, trying to keep her from wandering off and displeasing Victor and Blake. Doing everything she possibly could to win her father's love and approval and knowing that nothing she did was ever truly good enough for him. That Victor preferred Blake and always would.

One after another, the memories flooded my mind until it was all that I could do to keep swinging my sword. How did Deah live like that? Training so hard, worrying about her mom, being hurt by Victor's cruel words time and time again? How did she function when she knew that her own father didn't even love her? Neither did Blake, who saw her as just another tool he could use to do their father's bidding.

In that moment, I felt sorrier for Deah Draconi than I ever had before.

I could win the match, but for the first time, I didn't want to because I knew what it would cost her. I didn't like Deah, but I didn't want her or Seleste to suffer because of me. I'd
never
wanted that, but if the fight kept going the way it was, that was exactly what was going to happen. Deah and her mom would suffer miserably at Victor's hands, and there would be nothing that I or anyone else could do about it, since it would happen behind closed doors at the Draconi estate. No one there would dare to interfere with Victor and Blake, and none of the other Families would care enough to get involved, except for Claudia. But even then, I didn't know what Claudia could do to help them, since the Sinclairs and the Draconis were on the verge of going to war anyway.

I sighed, knowing what I had to do. It was the exact same thing my mom would have done. She'd always tried to protect people who needed help, and she'd never once complained about it. I wasn't as good or noble as she had been, but I knew a hard truth. That sometimes, doing the right thing sucked out loud, and this was definitely going to be one of those times.

So I sighed again, lowered my sword just a fraction, and slowly lessened my pace, as though I was exhausted and finally fading. Deah pressed her advantage, and I made my blows weaker and weaker, letting her get a little closer to cutting me every single time. I could have recovered, I could have taken her out, but I decided not to.